The Only One
by Lola Witherbottoms
Summary: After Drizzt loses everything important to him and is taken prisoner in the worst way, Artemis Entreri may be his only hope for freedom and a chance at a new life. Major slash, majorly OOC--you've been warned.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters. Only "the master" belongs to me.

Warning: This fic is _extremely_ OOC. Entreri doesn't act how he normally would; neither does Drizzt. Neither of them would act like this in any self-respecting Salvatore book. You have been warned; please don't flame or send in reviews pointing this out. I am very well aware of this particular discrepancy. Thanks!

Rewritten version…round number two.

* * *

Artemis Entreri grinned as the expected knock came at the door, then double-checked to make sure the money was on the bedside table where he had placed it in preparation. "It's open," he called, "but lock it when you're in." He sat down on the bed, eagerly awaiting his guest.

The door slowly creaked open and a frail-looking, cloak-clad figure stepped in. Soft leather boots, almost completely hidden beneath the hem of the long cloak, padded softly across the floor. The creature beneath the cloak looked to be thinner than he has asked for.

Trembling hands reached up to pull the hood away, revealing a head of white hair and large, empty lavender eyes.

"Do'Urden?" Entreri hissed, surprised; he would never have thought to see the drow in such a place.

"Entreri," Drizzt whispered, his tone hollow. The human, at a complete loss, studied him for a moment, seeing the way his enemy's shoulders bent under an invisible weight, the way the lack of emotion in his eyes made him look old and haggard. He looked defeated. What had happened to bring him here, of all places? "You...asked for me?"

He had asked for the best. "Not for you specifically, no," he spat, fury unexpectedly manifesting itself in his confusion, "but I suppose you'll do."

Drizzt bit his lip uncertainly and moved closer. "I...need my payment beforehand."

"Of course." The assassin was amazed to realize that he had to work to keep all traces of emotion from his voice as he handed the silver coins to the drow. He watched, disconnected, as dark hands slipped the money into a small pouch at his belt. "Well?"

Drizzt dropped his head, trembling slightly, and began to undress. He let his clothes fall to the floor in a wrinkled pile, letting them lie there as he finished. Once he was naked, he stood before Entreri. He could see the tattoo that marked him as property—that small little ring on his left shoulder with the vertical line through it. There were also others, spiders and signs of the Underdark over his chest and stomach and hips, and long, curving triangles beneath each eye.

With a shuddering sigh he slipped into bed beside Entreri.

* * *

Later that night Entreri woke abruptly, for no reason he could discern. It had been hours since Drizzt had left, as far as he could tell—there was no sign of him in the room, and his cloak was gone from the bed knob. He sighed. He had taken no joy in what he had done to the once-noble ranger. It had been so wrong.

A muffled noise caught his ear then, and he looked to the corner of the room, his body tensing in readiness. His human eyes were barely strong enough to pierce the darkness, but he could make out the thin shadow sitting there. It was Drizzt. He sat close against the wall, his head on his knees and his cloak wrapped tightly around him. He was still shaking. The elf lifted his head then and stood, keeping the cloak close to him as he left the room.

* * *

Two days later Entreri was still at the inn, and Drizzt still plagued his every thought. He didn't understand why—he had finally bested his opponent. But he hadn't had his victory in the way he had intended, nor had it felt as good as he thought it would.

Later that afternoon he found himself on the steps of the same house he had gone to before. At his insistent knock, a small window set in the door slid open to reveal a pair of suspicious black eyes.

"What's your business?" a gruff voice asked.

"I need someone," Entreri said quietly, keeping his hood low so he wouldn't be recognized. "Can I come in?"

The window was closed and a moment later the door was opened, revealing a round, middle-aged man with a flabby face. His beady eyes looked him up and down, and then the man ushered him into a small sitting room. When Entreri declined his offered drink, he cut straight to the point, asking, "What do you have in mind? Male or female? I've got humans, moon and sun elves, a dwarf, if that's what you like. A drow, too."

"A drow?" Entreri sat up straighter, feigning surprise.

"Yes. He came here about...six months ago. Fairly new. But he's certainly my best, no doubt about that. His name is Drizzit...Do'Urden, I think. He's a quiet one—he stays in his room unless he's got business. But still, he's the pride of my house. Even the nobles call on him from time to time. Those who get him are lucky. Believe me, I know."

He winked at the assassin, who was fast becoming angry.

"He learned all he knows from me," he continued, a leering grin on his face. "So...where am I to send him tonight?"

"Er..." It took Entreri a moment to relax and remove his clenched fist from the hilt of his dagger. "The only inn on the main street. Room forty-seven at midnight. How much is he?"

"For him...I want six silver pieces. He's worth more, but I like you."

* * *

"Elf!" the master barked as he thudded into the room, not bothering to knock. Drizzt, sitting on his bed, looked up. "You've got another job tonight."

"But I had three last night, and I have three tomorrow," he protested softly. "With the nobleman tonight—"  
"You're my best," came the reply. That was always the excuse. "They're all yours. Besides, you've got that pretty new tattoo. Don't you want to show it off?" He slipped a hand up the back of the drow's shirt, tracing the still-tender design he himself had inked into the dark skin. "Come to me when you're done tonight," he whispered, his warm breath eliciting a disgusted shiver from Drizzt. "Oh, here are the addresses for tonight." He handed the elf a slip of paper.

Drizzt looked down the list and saw a familiar address, one he had hoped to never see again. He bit his lip nervously, humiliated.

* * *

That night the familiar cloaked figure stepped into Entreri's room, collected his payment, and undressed. Drizzt looked utterly miserable as he again got into bed with the assassin. When he finished he stood, and Entreri knew that the drow expected him to go to sleep. But instead he watched as Drizzt tugged on his pants, a new tattoo stretching its way down his back—an intricate spider web starting at the nape of his neck and stretching to his shoulders, one long strand stretching down his spine, a spider resting in the small of his back.

The assassin sighed unhappily, unable to help himself. Drizzt turned around and looked reluctantly at him.

"Did I not please you?" he said softly, digging for the coins he had been given.

"No," Entreri choked out, and the drow bowed his head. "No, I-I mean—"

"My apologies," Drizzt said, holding the money out.

"No. Drizzt...what happened to you?"

Tears unexpectedly filled the dark elf's eyes and he opened his mouth as though he was about to say something, but instead he turned away and headed for the door. His hand was on the knob when Entreri stood and reached for him, touching his shoulder. "I want to know."  
Drizzt turned around but refused to look directly at him. He shrugged away from the hand, then said quietly, "They're all dead."

"Who?" He already knew though.

"Regis, Bruenor, Wulfgar...C-catti-brie." He swallowed hard. "We were defending the halls from a group of tundra yetis back in the Dale. They proved far too strong." Tears began to silently trace their way down his face. He squirmed uncomfortably, backed up against the wall by a man he would probably have preferred to never see again. Entreri took a step back, giving him enough room to move away from the door, or leave if he so desired. But to his surprise, Drizzt stayed.

"I wasn't even hurt," he continued, his voice cut through by a soft tremor. "Once I buried them all I was forced to leave. The dwarves—Bruenor—had given me a home. After he...died, no one would give me a home, though I had never shown them anything but friendship. None of the towns wanted me, either. I left...I traveled. I finally came to Waterdeep, but it was the same here and I wound up in an alley. About six months ago a man whom I thought kind took pity on me and brought me to his home. I was so desperate that I never questioned him. When I realized where I was, I tried to get away. He...he forced himself on me, and I've been there ever since."

He put his hand on the doorknob again and turned it, but before he could leave Entreri pulled him back. "Why don't you just leave?"

Drizzt lowered his head in shame. "Because as much as it hurts to admit it, he has given me shelter, warmth, clothes, food...a home. Everything I need." He tried to leave yet again, and almost managed it. But again, the assassin pulled him back.

"Get into bed." He cringed inwardly; that hadn't come out the way he intended it.

Drizzt didn't look surprised; he nodded. "Very well. But please...it needs to be quick. And...you'll have to pay me again."

"No, I didn't mean that... Not for that." Never for that. "I regret ever touching you at all." He gently guided the dark elf to bed, and Drizzt willingly complied. As he sat down amidst the rumpled sheets he bowed his head, letting it fall into his hands. He looked so small and helpless. Entreri, feeling a strange sort of compassion for the poor creature, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and pulled him close.

"Go to sleep," he encouraged, offering a small smile.

Drizzt looked at him, incredulous. "But I can't. I have another client tonight—a nobleman. I can't just—"

"Yes, you can. Now...please."

Drizzt hesitated for a moment, then nodded in thanks. He clasped Entreri's hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "Thank you."

"I'll get you out of there," the assassin heard himself promise. "Forget everything that's happened. Just sleep now."

Drizzt gave him a pale smile, then lay down facing the wall. He curled up into a ball, as though he could protect himself from everything. Entreri dropped into an armchair by the door, watching the elf as he slipped into sleep. He rubbed a hand over his face. Why was he doing this? Had he gone soft? He sighed. Whatever it was, he knew that it was a worthy undertaking.


	2. Chapter Two

The next morning found Drizzt following Artemis Entreri closely as the pair walked furtively down the street, hurrying to complete their unsavory business. They quickly reached the brothel and Entreri knocked firmly, his jaw set. As they waited, he glanced sidelong at his fidgeting companion and offered him a reassuring smile. "It'll be all right," he whispered.

Drizzt could only nod.

Then the door burst open, and Entreri found himself face-to-face with the master's beet-red visage. Drizzt uttered a terrified cry and fell back a step, clutching for the assassin's hand.

"Where have you _been_?" came the angry hiss. "You never went to your second job? What were you _thinking_? That was a nobleman! If you even—"

"Excuse me," Entreri interrupted calmly, holding up a hand to stop the tirade. He faltered a moment when that furious gaze was turned upon him, but gathered his courage and spoke again. "I wish to speak to you alone."

The man ignored him and returned to Drizzt, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him inside. "You're more trouble than you're worth, drow," he muttered. "You're going to make amends. Tonight. What in the Nine Hells were you thi—"

"Excuse me!" Entreri spoke louder this time. He stepped into the house as well and gave the master a look that brooked no argument. "I only need a few minutes. Please."

The man rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine." Looking to Drizzt, he hissed, "You stay there, you little son of a bitch," then led the assassin into the next room.

"I want to buy his freedom," Entreri said as soon as the door was shut. "Whatever your price, I am willing to pay it."

The other man looked him over. "Weren't you here yesterday?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "I told you that he's my best. He's brought in so much money since he came here. I can't let him go, no matter what trouble he's causing me."

"I don't care what the price is," Entreri said, trying to keep up his unyielding facade. "I have enough, I promise."  
"Why do you want him so badly?"

The assassin paused, searching for the right words. "I hated him," he said finally, his voice quiet. "I hated him, and my only desire was to kill him. But when he came into my room and I had him...it hurt, seeing how far he had fallen. He doesn't deserve this." He knew he must sound insane, speaking out loud like this to a man who couldn't begin to fathom their previous relationship. Entreri was speaking to himself, and as he did, a thousand reasons for freeing Drizzt were running through his mind. "He's not meant to be a whore." He looked up. "I promise you, whatever you want for him, I can pay."

He scanned the man's face and was unable to read it, his eyes like black ice, devoid of any emotion. He waited for what felt like hours, but when the master finally replied, it wasn't the answer he was hoping for.

"I can't." And he turned his back on the man, heading for the other room.

A soft, muffled cry caught their ears, and when Entreri opened the door, Drizzt fell unexpectedly into his arms. The assassin kept him close for a moment, whispering a single command into his ear. "Run. Now." He shoved him away, towards the front door. The elf stumbled but stayed upright, obeying the human. He almost made it, but somehow the master had anticipated this and was there before Drizzt.

"Like I said," he told Entreri as he slapped the drow across the face and shoved him away, "I can't sell him to you." Turning to Drizzt, he said, "Go upstairs; I'll be up soon. And you..." He turned to the other man. "Get out."

* * *

Drizzt sat on his bed, knowing that whatever was going on downstairs wasn't good. But he didn't worry too much about it, because he knew that his own punishment was coming soon.

He heard the heavy footsteps as the man thundered up the stairs, and he looked around frantically for a place to hide. He knew what was coming, and there would be no way to escape it.

The door crashed open and slammed against the adjacent wall, nearly taken off its hinges. Drizzt tried to run, but the master was far too quick and the room too small. He felt a crushing pain at the back of his head, followed by a blow to the face that resulted in a disconcerting crunch. Blood flowed down his face, hot and sticky. Over the course of the next few minutes he received a beating far worse than anything he had been given in battle.

When the man was done, Drizzt slumped against the wall, panting as he tried to peer through a swollen eye. His clothes were torn and bloodstained, and his right arm was completely useless. Every move burned—he had never been so aware of his body. He tried to lift himself into bed, but fell back to the floor. He simply passed out where he lay, the promise Artemis had made to him echoing through his mind.

* * *

He was woken abruptly when a pair of thick hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly. He groaned and tried to fight, but his battered body couldn't cooperate.

"No clients tonight, elf." The master's voice cut through his skull like a sword. "Let's get you cleaned up...get you comfortable..." Drizzt didn't like the tone in his voice—too cloying, too sweet. Nothing could mask his lascivious implications.

He couldn't fight as he was carried to the washroom, stripped of his clothes, and deposited unceremoniously into a tub of hot water. He began to tremble as his wounds were probed by deceptively gentle fingers. He kept his good eye closed, knowing that if he opened it he would see that horrible gleam in the master's eyes, and all his fears would be confirmed.

Hands worked through his hair, cleaning out the blood, then caressed his face. A kiss was placed to the side of his mouth as a rag was rubbed across his stomach; he drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them to protect himself. Instead of that, though, the rag was smoothed across his lower back. He squirmed, trying to get away.

He was lifted from the water and wrapped in a warm, fluffy towel, and as his deeper wounds were bandaged, he cursed himself. Only this man could make him act like this, like a coward unable to defend himself. Only this man could bring about such a paralyzing fear in him.

He was lifted again and knew that the master was taking him to a place that rivaled the Nine Hells—the bedroom. He was thrown down on the bed and, though he was barely conscious, the master set into him.


	3. Chapter Three

_"I'll get you out of here," Artemis promised as he got into bed, pulling Drizzt into his arms. The elf rested his head against the human's chest, pressing his as close as he could. For whatever reason, this man comforted him. He didn't understand it, but he didn't dare question it. He just wanted to be with someone who could make him feel better and keep him safe._

_"It'll be all right," Artemis whispered, kissing Drizzt's ear. The drow closed his eyes contentedly and sank further into the embrace._

* * *

Drizzt grimaced as the needle plunged into his skin once more, etching yet another design. He lay on his bed with his master leaning over him, dark eyes roving over his body in such a way that the drow had to fight to keep from trembling. The man picked up a damp cloth and wiped away the blood pooling from the wounds, then continued with his task.

The next two hours passed slowly, agonizingly, until finally the last puddles of blood were wiped away and a cool salve was rubbed over the newest tattoo, allowing Drizzt to sit up. The elf looked down at his bare stomach, eyeing with disdain the line of spiders that now crawled down his torso. Always spiders.

He stood gingerly and reached for his shirt. The sun had already set and it was time to start his work for the night. First there was the nobleman. He had been too sore from his beating three days ago to even think about going to him, and he hadn't been forced to leave the house. Now, though, it was time to begin making amends.

He crept down the darkest alleys of Waterdeep, past snoring bums and reeling drunks, keeping to the shadows. The lawmen were strict when it came to prostitution, and he knew that if he were caught, he would be dead. Though he hated all of it, he tried to please his clients and his master in the foolish hope that someday he might be given his freedom.

With the nobleman's home in sight, he carefully edged out onto the broader street running perpendicular to the dim alley. The mansion was set back from the street with a massive lawn in front; Drizzt crept along the hedges planted around the fence and found the side gate he had been told to use. The passage behind the entrance led up from the kitchens to the man's bedroom. Nobles, Drizzt thought with derision. This one had a secret way up just for his entertainment.

"Hello?" he called quietly, hoping this was the right place.

He heard rustling in an adjoining room, and an older man stepped out of the dark doorway. He was nightmarishly bony and looked him over with an appraising glance that was frighteningly reminiscent of the master's. When the nobleman gestured toward the bed, Drizzt lowered his eyes demurely and lay down.

* * *

A little while later he got out of bed and reached for his clothes, ignoring new bruises and fighting back the urge to shiver as he felt eyes looking him over. As he fastened his cloak around his neck a small purse landed at his feet, heavy with money. He picked it up and extracted his usual payment, then moved to place the pouch on the night table.

"Oh, no," the nobleman said with an unnerving grin. "Keep it. It's all yours."

He nodded in thanks and exited, glad to be away. After any encounter, he was always a little shaken. No matter how many people he was forced to sleep with, every time left him feeling nervous and twitchy.

A few blocks over he stopped in front of an old, decrepit inn. The outside was nothing more than eroding stone and warped wood, and the sound of drunken fighting within reached his ears. Hesitantly, he stepped inside.

The interior was even worse than the exterior, with broken table legs hastily patched up, broken pitchers and drunks on the floor, with those few who were still standing throwing punches at each other. The place smelled horrible, and Drizzt barely managed to keep from gagging.

In the far corner, an elf was sitting at a small table, looking very out of place with his pale, flawless skin framed by dark brown hair, delicately sipping a glass of wine. Drizzt sat down before him, pulling his hood away. Before he could say anything, the moon elf had pushed his payment across the table, and the drow barely had time to grab it before his wrist was clutched in a tight fist and he was pulled down the hall into a room.

* * *

He walked down the corridor after that particularly unpleasant experience, eager to get out of the inn. Home wasn't a pleasant prospect, but at least at the house he had a chance to lock the door, crawl into his bed, and sleep. At the very least, the master would be pleased with all the money he had made.

But just as he was about to leave, he was stopped by a bulky, muscular man, who produced three silver coins and a single bronze, undoubtedly all he had. "Come with me," he demanded.

By the time Drizzt got away, sore and battered, with more bruises than he cared to count, the sky was beginning to turn gray at the horizon. He set off at a brisk pace, intending to get back to the house before the sun rose. If he got back early enough, he might be able to get the first bath. Just the thought soothed his tired muscles.

The washroom was already occupied, though, and the master wasn't up yet, so he couldn't give him the money. He exchanged his clothes and cloak for a towel and sat outside the room. He felt disgusting, hot, and sticky with sweat, and the wait was agonizing.

"Drow!"

He jumped and scrambled to his feet, eyes on the ground as the master approached him. "Do you have anything for me?"

The drow returned to his room to get the purse, only to come face-to-face with the master as he turned for the door. He fumbled the pouch into his hands, trying to push past him just to get out of his way. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, pinning him in place. Drizzt fought to keep from shaking as the money was counted, then breathed a sigh of relief when he was freed.

"Good. Do this for the next two nights and you'll get a break." He left, and Drizzt sank against the wall, trembling violently.


	4. Chapter Four

_Entreri lay in bed beside Drizzt, the elf resting in his arms—a perfect fit. He didn't bother stifling a sleepy yawn when his bedmate pressed closer, soft and warm. Nor did he complain when the drow insisted on kissing him. He rolled his eyes when his hand was clutched in a tight grasp._

_Drizzt laughed and kissed him again, then rolled over, letting go of his hand to pull the blankets over his shoulders. Entreri, mourning the loss of his favorite source of warmth, captured the elf in a hug and burrowed against him, smiling when he heard a quiet chuckle._

* * *

Waking was an unusually slow process for Artemis Entreri. So caught up in the dream, it took him far longer to open his eyes than was normal. But when he finally did, he sat up and groaned, his palms pressed against his eyelids. This hadn't been the first dream he had had involving he and the drow in an unnaturally close position. There had been many in the past, typically after a duel with the elf, but they had become alarmingly more frequent since he had actually slept with him.

He sighed helplessly, then stood and reached for his clothes. Drizzt. He still plagued his every thought. Entreri had promised to get him out, and he meant to make good on his vow—but he had no idea how to go about it. Any little plan he could think of he almost immediately dismissed. They were all too ridiculous, too complicated, too full of holes.

He belted his sword and dagger around his waist, concealing them beneath his cloak as he stepped into the hall. It would be a long day, waiting until nightfall to carry out the only credible plan, and he didn't want to spend all day alone in his room.

He wandered the streets of Waterdeep, looking into shops only because he so desperately needed a diversion. He crept through alleys, through crowded streets, never looking anyone in the eye. He was too lost in his own contemplations, trying to fathom why he was involved in this situation, wondering why he cared so much and was willing to work so hard to free a man he thought he hated.

He slumped against the slimy brick of an alley when the sun began to set. The sky above him was bright with blood, seeming to herald bad luck. Without consciously doing it, his hand moved to his dagger and clutched the handle tightly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them it was dark as pitch. Only a few stars peeped out from the heavy clouds that had formed. Unable to see the moon, he couldn't tell how long he had slept. He rose soundlessly to his feet, a shadow against shadows, berating himself for dozing off in an alley. He tucked his cloak around him like a shroud and lifted his hood. He felt a pair of eyes watching him from the mouth of the alley, but he didn't turn to acknowledge their owner.

The brothel looked deserted but he knocked anyway. He waited for what felt like hours, until he finally heard heavy footsteps inside. He tried to keep his hands off his weapons as the door was cautiously opened. The familiar beady eyes peered out, looking him up and down, trying to discern whether or not he was a lawman.

He must have passed the test, because he was asked, "Who do you want?"

"The drow." Relief overcame him; he hadn't been recognized, either.

"You're in luck. He's here tonight. Do you have the payment?"

The assassin obediently dropped the coins into the master's waiting hand. The man turned around, and Entreri quickly, silently palmed his dagger. He threw it, with nothing more than a slight hiss of air to give warning, aiming squarely at the master's back. It struck home.

And bounced off.

The dagger clattered to the floor, unnaturally loud in the unsettling peace the house offered.

Entreri cringed, understanding what had happened.

"Who sent you?" the master asked, not turning around.

"What?"

"Who sent you?" he repeated.

"I...I don't understand."

"Everyone knows I run the best house in the city. The other proprietors want my workers. This isn't the first time someone's come in and tried to kill me." He finally turned. "Now tell me, _who sent you_?"

Entreri was speechless, indecisive and uncertain. He couldn't leave, not without Drizzt. What was he supposed to do?

The master stalked over and wrenched his hood from his head. He didn't seem surprised when Entreri's face was revealed. "I knew you'd come back. Did the drow put you up to this?"

"No," Entreri replied. When the other man turned to the stairs, he shouted it. "No!"

"Leave. I'll tell him you were here."

Entreri stood rooted to the spot. Finally, after long minutes, he turned away, shoulders bowed under a great weight. He looked back as he walked down the empty street, his footsteps echoing on the cobbled stone. Drizzt was still inside.

* * *

Drizzt fought back a miserable sigh and reluctantly opened his eyes as a heavy body fell into bed beside him. He was in the master's bed, wrapped in warm blankets and furs. He buried himself deeper, hoping to hide as he heard the man's erratic breathing behind him. He already ached from earlier activities, and the thought of more of the same had him wincing.

A hand shoved against the small of his back, and he rolled over, glaring.

"You're pretty when you're mad," came the condescending reply, spoken in a mocking tone. The hand pushed the blankets away and pulled him close against clammy flesh. A finger ran up his throat and lifted his chin, and before the drow could do anything, warm lips shoved against his, forcing his neck back at an uncomfortable angle. Drizzt fought while he could, until he was completely pinned down by the crushing weight, his wrists aching in the vice-like grip of the fingers clutching them.

He wrenched his head to the side, effectively breaking the kiss and earning a threatening growl from the master. Rather than face the angry glare, Drizzt closed his eyes, trying to remember the way Artemis had been with him, holding him that second night and comforting him, his skin warm, his voice soothing...

"Your friend was here."

His eyes snapped open and searched the man's face. He was telling the truth.

"When?" he dared to ask.

"Just now. Tried to kill me."

Drizzt rolled out of bed, grabbing his clothes. Maybe Artemis was still down there, maybe he had a chance—

Fat arms wrapped him in an embrace that felt like a poor parody of Artemis's. "He's not here. He left. He decided he didn't want you." The arms rocked him gently and the voice cooed in his ear. "Poor Drizzit... But you have me. You know that. I'll keep you safe..." A soft kiss to the tip of his ear, fingers sliding strategically over his stomach, and Drizzt was powerless. If Artemis didn't want him, he was trapped here forever. Tears stung his eyes.

"_I_ want you. I'll keep you. You'll be happy, I promise."

Drizzt shivered and lay down on the bed, long arms wrapping around the master as the man lay on top of him. Some very distant corner of his mind was screaming at him, telling him to stop, but he couldn't.


	5. Chapter Five

_Artemis Entreri was crouched on a cold stone floor, but he was anything but uncomfortable. The room he sat in was filled with a warm steam, and the task he had taken upon himself made his skin grow warm with pleasure._

_He found a bar of soap and lathered up a rag, languidly reaching under the elf's arms to wash Drizzt's chest, resting his chin on a slender shoulder and nuzzling his companion's neck playfully. The drow let out a soft purr and reached behind him, tugging on Entreri's shirt. "Off," he demanded, turning around. "It's annoying."_

_The human eyed him in disbelief but did as he was told. "Happy?" he asked as he set the shirt aside._

_Drizzt's eyes wandered over his muscular torso. "Very," he grinned._

_Entreri shook his head and picked up the rag, scrubbing the elf's dark face. He leaned in for a quick kiss, murmuring, "How's your bath?"_

_"Wonderful," Drizzt replied, kissing him insistently. "But it could be better…"_

_"How?"_

_"I want to take a bath with _you_." Deceptively small hands gripped his wrists and tugged him sharply forward, landing him in the tub with a terrific splash. Entreri groaned at the pain in his backside, then gave the drow a disparaging look as he pulled off his thoroughly-soaked pants. He only got an amused laugh in return as Drizzt crawled into his arms, kissing him gently._

* * *

Entreri sat bolt upright, then let his head fall into his hands as he groaned. Bathing Drizzt? Bathing _with_ Drizzt? He stood up and began to pace the room, pausing occasionally to hit his head against the wall. That settled, he fell back onto the bed with a sigh, trying to recall every miniscule detail of the dream.

* * *

Drizzt pulled off his cloak and let it fall to the floor as he reached for the clothes he had left ready on the bed. He was always grateful for the meager protection clean garments seemed to offer. Scooping up the money he had made that night, he turned to the door. He paused briefly to brace himself before he had to go to the master—before he would be forced for the third time that night. He closed his eyes, not allowing himself to think about Artemis Entreri. He knew that if he did, he would feel that terrible longing in the pit of his stomach, the one that burned in him and left him crippled. He didn't truly believe Artemis would just abandon him, not after all the trouble he had gone to try and help him. But then again, why _would_ he help him? This was the man who had tried to kill him, after all. This was the man who had hired him.

He opened his eyes and turned the doorknob, stepping into the hall. He was silent as he made his way to the master's room, hoping that if he was quiet enough he wouldn't wake the man. But he wasn't there. He laid the money on the desk and left, suppressing a happy grin. Finally, a night alone in his bed!

He dove beneath the sheets, a small smile on his face as he settled into the pillows. He was nearly asleep when he heard a knock at the door. "Damn it," he muttered, sitting up as a young man stepped into the room, eyeing him with approval.

* * *

Entreri climbed the vines that grew along the brick of the house, quiet as a shadow in the moonless night. He used the deeply-pitted bricks as handholds to reach the long balcony on the back of the building. It faced the alley but eventually wrapped around the side. With any luck, Drizzt's room would be along that balcony.

When he put his feet on the solid wood, he began to creep past the windows, slipping in and out of the shadows. Looking in discreetly, he saw that two were empty, and sleeping forms lay under the blankets in two others. In one room he was surprised to see two moon elves wrapped in a protective embrace as they slept. In all the other rooms there were more illicit activities occurring.

Drizzt was nowhere to be found, though. He took one last look before turning back for the empty rooms, hoping the drow would be back soon. As he passed by one of the occupied rooms, a flash of white caught his eye. Through the window he could see the dark elf trapped in some other man's arms, hands groping and fingernails scraping lines down his dark back.

Entreri sank down by the window and watched with clenched fists, praying for it to end quickly. The man Drizzt was with shouldn't be with him at all. The assassin fumed. Drizzt should be with _him_—someone who cared for him. He looked in periodically, though it seemed like it would never end. It was horrible to see Drizzt's face, with his lavender eyes screwed shut, burying his face in the pillows to try and hide the pain written on his fine elven features. Entreri wanted only to break the window, get rid of that man, and take Drizzt in his arms.

Finally the drow was left alone on the bed, on his stomach and breathing hard. He gripped the sheets in his fists, trembling slightly. The man dressed and placed a few extra coins on the nightstand before he left, shutting the door behind him. But Entreri was forced to wait another few minutes as the elf's master came in to take the money and offer a few words of what appeared to be encouragement.

But at last the room was empty, and Drizzt got up, locked the door, and pulled on his discarded pants. Tears stained his face as he wrapped a sheet around his shoulders. Unable to wait any longer, Entreri tapped on the window.

Drizzt started and whirled around, fear in his eyes. But when he saw the assassin he scrambled to the window, unable to disguise a smile as he opened the latch.

But to Entreri's dismay, the window only opened about five inches. He had only wanted to take the drow in his arms and comfort him. Still though, he managed to get his hand through the small opening to stroke Drizzt's cheek, wiping away the tears and feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers.

"You're back." It wasn't a question, but the human nodded anyway. Drizzt gazed up at him in relief.

"Of course. This is a fate I wouldn't want my worst enemy to suffer."

Something flickered in the depths of the drow's lavender eyes, but he murmured, "Thank you." He turned his head into the hand caressing his cheek and fell silent for a very long time, his eyes closed in apparent contentment.

"Is there any way to get in?" Entreri finally asked, reluctant to break the peaceful quiet.

"He knows who you are." Drizzt didn't move as he answered. "But he's been up all night—we're busy. If you keep your hood up he might not even check. The more money he gets, the less he cares who's coming in."

"Can I kill him?"

Drizzt stiffened and his eyes snapped open. "What did you do?" he asked in hushed tones.

"I...I came for you," Entreri said softly. "He had a stoneskin enchantment. My dagger did absolutely nothing to him."

"Idiot," Drizzt muttered, looking down. "He always does that when he's doing business. He's so afraid of the other...proprietors...getting in and trying to kill him to take his workers...us. He's got the best place in the city and doesn't want to give that up. But...thank you for what you did for me." Drizzt bit his lip and looked down again. "He told me you came. He said you didn't want me."

"That's a filthy lie," Entreri whispered hotly. "If I get in, can I ask for you?"

"I'm supposed to be done for the night, but if you offer enough in payment I think it will work. We won't be able to get out, though."

"Break the window."

"It's glassteel." Drizzt shrugged at Entreri's incredulous expression. "Like I said...he doesn't want to lose his place as the best proprietor in Waterdeep. If we escape, he's finished. But...he could find us anyway. Whatever we try..." He trailed off.

"I'll think of something," the assassin promised. "I'll be up in a minute."

* * *

Drizzt had been right—as long as business was good, the master didn't look too closely for lawmen or any other unwelcome customers. He paid as much as possible and was led up to the drow's room.

Entreri sat on the edge of the bed and managed a small smile. "Let's get you out of here," he said quietly. He stood and walked to the small trunk at the foot of the bed, hoping to find a pack to put clothes in. But before he could open it, a slim hand grabbed his and pulled him back. He looked into Drizzt's hopeful eyes, confused. "What?"

"You're really going to help me?" He sounded as though he couldn't believe it. "You're going to get me out of here?"

"Of...of course. What sort of heartless bastard would I be if I just left you here?"

He was pulled into a tight embrace, Drizzt pressed close against him. Startled, Entreri could only respond, wrapping his arms around the small body. "Everything will get better," he murmured vaguely, hands drawing patterns on Drizzt's bare back.

"Come here." Drizzt pulled him to the bed and lay down, never letting go. He pulled Entreri down on top of him and guided his fingers to the laces of his pants. "Just once," he whispered. "Then we can leave."

Completely floored, Entreri tried to pull away. However, his body refused to cooperate with his mind. It took all his willpower just to keep from kissing the drow. "Drizzt Do'Urden," he muttered almost angrily, enjoying far too much the sensation of the elf's soft skin and firm muscles and the gentle hands caressing him. "No. Never." It took a surprising amount of force to utter those two simple words.

Drizzt chose not to hear him, and slipped his hands up the human's shirt, stroking his skin. "Please."

Entreri tilted his head up to avoid the drow's lips. "Drizzt..." He pushed away from the other man, stumbling off the bed and losing his balance in the pleasant haze that enveloped him. From his vantage point on the floor he looked up at Drizzt, trying hard to bite back all his emotions. The dark elf looked so beautiful lying on the bed, only half-dressed and offering Entreri his wildest dreams. A part of his mind screamed at him for not taking the chance, if Drizzt was willing. Another part gave him a sort of satisfaction in refusing the offered gift.

Drizzt rolled onto his stomach and gazed down, curiosity—and sadness?—in his wide purple orbs. "Why not?" he asked softly, almost mournfully.

"I paid," Entreri said brusquely. "And I don't want to." It was a half-truth. The man stood, trying to regain a fraction of his lost dignity. "Let's go."

Without a word Drizzt tugged on his shirt and grabbed his cloak. "Have you thought this out at all?" he murmured hesitantly, almost as though he was afraid to speak.

"No," Entreri replied, offering the drow a raised eyebrow.

"So...we stand a good chance of getting killed, then?"

"That could be very likely." The human took the elf's hand and headed toward the door.

"Wait!" Drizzt said suddenly, stopping abruptly. "I...my scimitars..."

"Do you know where they are?"

"I think in the attic...above his room."

"Then go." Entreri opened the door silently and stepped into the dark hall. "I'll keep watch." He gazed after the dark elf as Drizzt crept to the end of the hall and peered into the open doorway of the master's room. He waved the assassin over a moment later.

"Lift me up," he whispered, standing on the bed. Entreri wrapped his arms around the elf's slim legs, hoisting him high enough to push aside a small door in the ceiling. He scrambled inside, disappearing completely. The human sat down amidst rumpled sheets, keeping a close eye on the door.

"Watch out!"

Entreri caught a leather-wrapped dagger in his hands, mouth falling open in shock when he saw the weapon's jeweled hilt. "Catch me," Drizzt hissed a moment later, and the assassin stood to take hold of his legs, bringing the elf into his arms. Momentarily forgetting that they could be caught at any moment, he buried his face in snow-white hair, all the temptation flooding back.

Drizzt wriggled out of his arms too soon, and Entreri was overwhelmed by a wave of desertion. "My scimitars aren't there," he said. He pressed close once more, whispering, "Thank you." He tugged the man to the door.

But the master was waiting in the hall. Taken by surprise, Drizzt was frozen to the floor and unable to react. Entreri watched, horrified, as the elf's wrists were pinned in a strong grasp and he was forced against the wall.

Entreri, thinking as fast as he could, quickly got between them, shielding the elf's body with his own. He discreetly slipped the hand that contained the dagger behind him and then pulled it back out.

"Artemis?"  
"Hush," the assassin replied brusquely. Drawing in a deep breath, he looked the larger man in the eye. "He had this under his pillow. He tried to kill me, then ran. I followed him—he needs to be punished." He tried not to look at Drizzt as he pulled away and headed for the stairs, not wanting to see the look of deep betrayal that he knew was in the drow's eyes.

He felt like crying, if it was possible. It was the only way he had been able to think of that would allow him to escape and come back for Drizzt later. But he also knew that Drizzt could wind up dead because of him. He ran out of the house, trying hard to ignore the agonized sobs that came from the landing above. Guilt assailed him as he turned onto the street. He hated himself more than ever, knowing that he had perhaps just killed everything he ever wanted. But what else could have been done? He couldn't go back. He could only trust Drizzt, and pray to the gods he didn't believe in that the drow survived.


	6. Chapter Six

_Drizzt lay in a soft, warm bed, completely covered in thick blankets. He was waiting for someone, but knowing that didn't make him nervous like he usually was when waiting for a client or the master. Whatever he was feeling was pleasant and comforting._

_Happiness. That was what it was._

_When Artemis Entreri stepped into the room it all made sense. The human gave him a little smile and began to undress. Drizzt's eyes never left the other man. Once he had stripped down to his breeches, he turned to the bed and crawled in, pulling the drow into his arms and holding him close, capturing his lips in a slow, tender kiss._

_Drizzt responded eagerly, his own arms wrapping around the human's waist to bring himself even closer. He felt warm, his mind slightly fuzzy._

_Artemis pulled away too soon. "Hey," the elf protested softly, resting his forehead against the man's chest. "Don't stop."_

_Artemis laughed, bringing a smile to Drizzt's sullen face, and kissed the top of his head. "Better?" he asked dryly._

_"I guess..."_

* * *

Drizzt woke alone, unable to think clearly and stiff from sore, bruised muscles. Blood stained his sheets. He shifted, grimacing. He buried his face in the nearest pillow, willing the pain to go away. Where was Artemis? Where had he gone?

Oh, yes. He had left him. But he had promised to help him escape. Why would he just abandon him, leave him for dead? Tears stung his eyes as he came to the only logical conclusion. Because he was Artemis Entreri, and Drizzt had absolutely no reason to trust him.

He hoisted himself to his feet with considerable effort, gripping the bed knob to keep his balance. Trying to ignore his throbbing head, he gathered up clean clothes and limped to the washroom, eager for a bath.

He locked the door behind him and ran a tubful of steaming water to ease his aching body. Settling into the water, he laid his cheek on the cool marble and closed his eyes, pretending to be content for a few minutes. He began to calmly think through the events of the previous night. He knew that he was on his own now. Artemis Entreri no longer mattered. At least, that was what he told himself.

His scimitars would help, if he could ever find them. He had looked the house up and down several times since he had been imprisoned, but never found them. As soon as he could move properly, he would search yet again.

"Drow!"

He jumped when he heard the voice and the fist pounding on the door, the stupor clearing from his mind. He groaned and stood awkwardly, drying off and putting on his clothes. It was dark out, he noted. He had been so focused on his bath he hadn't realized how long he had been unconscious. It was time to work.

He opened the door and shouldered past the master, but was grabbed by strong hands and forced to stop.

"No more of this, you hear me?" the master whispered, his hot breath fanning the elf's face. "That..._friend_ of yours isn't coming back. You're going to be here for the rest of your life, I'll see to that. You know what waits for you if you try to escape again."

The crippling fear that had lain dormant since Artemis had shown up came rushing at Drizzt full force, rendering him speechless. He trembled, falling limp and only held up by the strong hands pinning him.

"Six tonight."

He gasped; that was impossible. "B-but..._how_?" he sputtered. "Six?"

"All in the same part of the city," he was assured. "But be quick. I want you back before dawn."

* * *

Artemis Entreri fell back on his bed, sighing. He could try once, maybe twice more to free Drizzt—he was running out of money and he knew that if he was caught again they would both suffer an unpleasant end. But he had to try one last time. For Drizzt.

He donned his boots and cloak, making his way through the darkened streets. Any time he passed a similarly hooded and cloaked figure he would watch them closely; none were Drizzt.

When he reached the house, he saw that it was almost completely dark. Candles were lit in a few windows, but that was it. Not bothering to knock, he slipped his lock pick into the lock, opening the door with only a quiet click. No one was around and so he crept upstairs, silent. Drizzt's room was empty, the bed made and his cloak gone from the hook. Entreri took that as a good sign. After a cursory glance around the hall and into the bedrooms he checked the master's suite.

For whatever reason, the man wasn't there, which suited Entreri just fine. He had a better chance now to look around and find something that might help him.

The room strongly resembled some of the harems he had seen and been in in Calimport. Scarves hung from sconces, giving the room a bloody glow, and pillows and rugs littered the floor. The window was covered by a curtain made from a heavy red cloth, furthering the vaguely threatening atmosphere.

Shuddering, the assassin began to make a careful search, looking for hidden doors, anything beneath the unmade bed, in the drawers. Once he was reasonably certain there was nothing there, he turned his attention to things less easily spotted. He checked the closet—walls, ceiling, floor. Absolutely nothing. Then he began to scan the ceiling of the bedroom. All the panels were perfectly placed, with no cracks to give away anything. At last he sighed in defeat and took one more glance around the place, trying to come up with something, anything, no matter how desperate it might seem.

In anguish he searched beneath the rugs and cushions, checking all the floorboards to see if they shifted. One creaked, but didn't yield when he tried to lift it.

Finally giving in, he turned and left the room, wracking his brain for anything. But then it occurred to him that perhaps what he was searching for would be hidden in the most obvious place. The master kept his workers against their will, and he was a smart man. He knew that whatever weapons or other valuables his workers had on them when they were obtained would be searched for if taken from them. And he knew that the first place they would look would be his own room. They wouldn't look in their own closets, or beneath their own beds. Entreri grinned. How ironic—that was it!

He returned to Drizzt's room, this time taking extra care to search every single floorboard and inch of wall and ceiling. He found nothing, but then reached under the bed and felt around with an experienced hand. He found that one long board was raised. Only slightly, but it was enough for him to notice it.

He moved the bed aside a couple inches, trying not to make too much noise. He pried the board back, then tore away the one next to it. Reaching into the opening he had made, he felt the soft, worn leather of a well-used scabbard. Two scabbards, in fact.

Knowing he had precious little time before someone caught him, he concealed the scimitars beneath the pillows and hurriedly masked the signs of his search. He felt lighter as he crept out of the house, knowing that Drizzt now had a fighting chance.

* * *

Drizzt, exhausted, knocked hesitantly on the front door of a small cottage in a nondescript Waterdhavian neighborhood where he was supposed to meet his fifth client of the night—a young nobleman who reportedly paid well. He intended to do his best as quickly as possible and get away.

A handsome man answered the door and immediately looked him up and down. He apparently approved, because a moment later he dragged Drizzt inside, slamming the door behind them. He tore the elf's cloak away and unbuttoned his shirt almost frantically. Drizzt closed his eyes as hands ran over his skin, then let himself be taken into another room. He lay down on the bed at a word from the young man.

He watched as the nobleman undressed and let him straddle his hips, and he bit his lip as the hands began once more to caress him. He finally looked the other man in the face and met his dark eyes. He jolted. The man was pale and his dark hair, though finely-cut, hung in his eyes. He might have been a younger version of Artemis Entreri, but for one simple thing. There was no warmth in his eyes. This man would be ruthless and efficient, taking what he wanted and then discarding him. Not like Artemis; Drizzt knew better now.

Artemis would have taken him when he offered himself. He would have made it better than any client ever had. He had felt the longing, had known that Artemis wanted it, and yet he had refused. Why?

An abrupt, almost violent, jerk brought him back to the present, and he looked up into the annoyed and frustrated face of the nobleman.

"I hired the best," he hissed. "That's what I intend to have."

"Sorry," Drizzt murmured apologetically, lowering his eyes.

* * *

Unfortunately, that one incident set the tone for the remainder of the night, and afterwards he watched, already hurting from the beating he could feel coming, as the man pulled a sizeable amount of money from a small pouch, then handed what little remained to Drizzt. The drow forced himself to keep his face still, and left.

One more and he would be done for the night. His last client was only a few minutes away, and it was about an hour until dawn—it would have to be quick, and for that he was grateful.

He knocked on the door of a rundown hovel and a young man answered. His frizzy hair was pulled back in a ponytail and dark circles sat beneath his eyes. He couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty, but he had the thin, ravaged look of the men who wandered the alleys at night, searching for something to ease their pain. The other man looked him over for a moment, then finally nodded in approval and ushered him in. He handed him the money and then motioned for him to undress.

Reluctantly, Drizzt did so, but as he moved to join the youth on the dank straw pallet that served for a bed he was stopped unexpectedly and he backed away, uncertain. The man stood and motioned for him to sit before the meager fireplace. The elf, beginning to feel uneasy—why didn't this man talk?—sat, and jumped when he felt cold fingers settle on one of the many aching wounds on his back.

As he turned around, a reassuring kiss was placed to the tip of his ear and the hands returned, their touch firm but gentle, and Drizzt slowly relaxed. To his surprise, he could feel his skin knitting back together and the dull, throbbing pain he had pushed to the back of his mind slowly subsided. He closed his eyes and let the healer do his work.

He could sit calmly for the moment, but he had been paid and he knew what was coming. He rose obediently when his shoulder was tapped and joined the youth on the itchy pallet, grateful for what he had done but not relishing what he had to do in return.

* * *

The sun had risen by the time Drizzt got back. He dropped the money he had earned into the master's hands, then dragged himself up the stairs before the meager payment from the nobleman could be found. He got a clean shirt and pair of pants from his trunk and a towel in the washroom, then ran the water in the tub and sank in, grateful for the soothing heat on his aching muscles.

Guessing that the others had already bathed, judging by the hour of the morning, he knew that he could take his time. He did so, waiting until the water grew cold to get out. He rested his head against the cool wall behind him, closing his eyes for a moment's rest.

But lately, whenever he closed his eyes, Artemis Entreri came to mind. He would think of him, and that sinking feeling of horrible betrayal came to him. He knew he was foolish to have been so hopeful. He tried to ignore that voice that had said all along that he shouldn't have trusted the man. But still, he ached for his touch and the sound of his voice.

After what must have been an hour, he got out of the tub, the idea of bed even more welcoming than that of a bath. Already groggy, he got beneath the sheets, curling up beneath them as though they could protect him. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He awoke late that afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to set. He was tangled thoroughly in the sheets, his hand tightly gripping something hard. He sat up slowly, hoping he would have the night off; he was too sore to move very well. Sitting up, he let go of whatever he had been holding so he could stretch.

There was a knock at the door, heavy and insistent; he groaned. The door opened and the master came in, a lewd grin on his face. "You have the night off, drow. You'll be with me."

"Please...no," Drizzt murmured, hating himself as he said it. He had always prided himself on never begging for anything. But now, abandoned by the one man he had thought could help him and broken down by so much humiliation, he found the words slipping effortlessly from his mouth.

"Please?" the master echoed, disbelief tinting his voice. Drizzt tensed; the man never brooked any arguments and always punished those who refused him. But a moment later he reached out to stroke the drow's cheek in what he felt was a poor parody of Artemis's surprisingly gentle caress. The master leered at him. "Beg," he demanded in a whisper, cupping the elf's chin tightly, forcing him back to the bed, trapping him.

Drizzt felt the panic begin to overwhelm him, and he fought to control his breathing. His shirt was lifted over his head, and he tried to focus on other things as that inevitable feeling of uncleanliness overcame him. His wrists were pinned above his head and he shivered as a series of kisses was placed along his throat, his collarbone and shoulders, trying to imagine Artemis. If he had to do this, why not dream of the man he truly wanted?

He looked around the room, looking for something, anything, that might distract him from this torture. He watched the ruddy sunlight fall into the room, casting everything in a bloody glow. He noticed the sparkle of the handle on the doorknob; it hurt his eyes, but maybe if he concentrated on that, he could—

His pants were pulled off and tossed to the floor, joining his shirt. "Beg," came the command again, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. His hands were freed and he fell back against the wall, clutching the sheets—and whatever he had been holding when he woke up. He glanced down and started when he realized that he was holding a scimitar. And then he bit his lip happily, realizing how it had gotten there.

"Please," he whispered, his lips brushing the master's ear as he pushed forward. He wrapped his legs around the man, letting his free hand trail up his shirt. He heard an approving chuckle, and he grinned. "Take me," he breathed. "Please." His grip on the weapon tightened and he discreetly brought that hand up. Faking a lust-filled moan he pushed against the man and forced him to roll onto his back.

Drizzt sat up, straddling his hips, and plunged the weapon into his master's heart. He stood, and without a glance back at the noisily dying man he gathered his clothes and weapons. Tears filled his eyes, born of both frustration and joy. He was free.


	7. Chapter Seven

Entreri walked silently towards the inn, countless questions bouncing around in his head. If Drizzt managed to free himself, would he bother coming back to him? Would he even want to, after the way Entreri had left him?  
With a heavy sigh he entered the inn, scanning the common room for anyone remotely resembling the drow. Seeing no one, he trudged up the stairs, quietly stepping into the room. The place was shrouded in semi-darkness, the only light a pale gray from the dying sun. He pulled off his cloak, boots, and shirt and fell onto the bed with a heavy sigh. He had done what he could, and if he had destroyed any hope of ever being with Drizzt...well, that was his own fault.

He rolled over and reached for the blanket, but as he stretched, his supporting elbow dug into something slightly harder than the mattress. Alarmed by the ensuing grunt, he backed away, reaching for his dagger. Someone was in his bed.

"Lovely," mumbled a familiar voice. Drizzt sat up, giving him a disparaging look. "I come back for a visit and you insist on skewering me."

Entreri, speechless for perhaps the first time in his life, could only gape in amazement. After a moment, though, he found himself throwing his arms around the drow, burying his face in thick white hair. To his surprise, Drizzt returned the embrace, resting his head on the man's shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Anytime," Entreri managed through the lump that had formed in his throat. He pulled away to look at the elf. He was relatively intact, with a few scratches here and there, but with bloodstains on his hands and shirt. "This isn't..._your_ blood, is it?" he asked hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer.

"No, it's his." A small smile slipped onto his lips. "I need a bath."

* * *

He wasn't dreaming this time.

Drizzt lay stripped to the waist on the bed, patiently enduring the torture Artemis had dreamed up. Not that he wasn't enjoying it.

"What are you staring at?" the man laughed as he shifted to get at a spot of dirt low on the drow's hip. The warm, wet cloth felt soft against his skin.

"You're doting over me," the elf teased, folding his arms behind his head.

"Am not," Artemis scoffed.

"You know I'm more than capable of giving myself a bath."

"So?"

Drizzt bit his lip and smiled almost nervously up at the man, relief flooding through him when he received one in return. All talk stopped for a while, and Drizzt closed his eyes contentedly as Artemis continued his very pleasant ministrations. Finally, though, the elf quietly asked the one question that continued to nag him, though he thought he knew the answer. "You left me in order to help me, right?"

"Of course. I would never have abandoned you. Not there. Not anywhere."

Drizzt wrapped his arms around the man, pulling him close. "I love you," he whispered, his heart thudding hard in his chest.

Artemis pulled away, searching his face. There was something like fear in his eyes, quickly replaced by a shy sort of excitement when he realized that Drizzt was speaking the truth. "You...?"

The dark elf laughed. "Yes. I suppose it was bound to happen, after all those times you tried to rescue me."

* * *

Entreri stared at the elf for a moment before he bent and pressed a hesitant kiss to his soft lips, stretching himself out along Drizzt's body. The drow laughed again and kissed the underside of the man's chin then slid his hands down pale skin, tugging on his waistband.

"Now will you?" he asked quietly, almost petulantly.

"Yes," Entreri murmured, kissing the elf's neck. "I love you, too." He sat up and undid the laces of his pants, pulling them off quickly. This earned a grin from Drizzt as the man lifted him up, letting the elf lay on top of him. He looked absolutely beautiful, silky hair framing his face in soft white strands, and his eyes glittered happily as Entreri took hold of his hands and kissed his fingers. The human made an attempt to reach between them and unlace the drow's pants, but was thwarted when the elf squirmed unexpectedly and rolled off onto his back.

"Are you all right?" he asked, stifling a chuckle. Drizzt merely smiled and reached up, slipping his arms around the other man's neck and kissing him deeply. His hands slowly trailed down the human's shoulders and arms and to his hips, and then to his own breeches. He deftly twisted out of them and tossed them aside, his mouth never leaving Entreri's.

The human forced himself away, gazing down at Drizzt for a moment before he lowered his head and traced the elf's tattoos with his lips. A soft whimper escaped his companion, and Entreri grinned against the soft, warm skin. He lifted himself up, his mind pleasantly fuzzy as he wrapped Drizzt in a tight embrace.

"Ready?" he whispered. He sincerely regretted the way he had touched the elf previously, and wanted this time to be perfect.

Drizzt smiled at him. "Yes." He leaned over the bed and dug in his old pack for a small vial containing a clear liquid. Uncorking the container, he poured a liberal amount in Artemis's hand and lay back on the pillows. The human gazed at Drizzt for a long moment before putting his hands on slim but muscular thighs, spreading them gently. "I love you," he whispered as he slid a finger into the drow.

* * *

The two lay close under the sheets, wrapped up in each other and exchanging soft kisses. Entreri pressed his lips to Drizzt's forehead, smiling happily. He had thought this moment would never come.

"Goodnight," the drow whispered sleepily.

"Love you," Entreri replied quietly, pulling him into his arms to keep him close. Sleep slowly came over him, sinking him into the soft mattress. Having Drizzt beside him made all the difference—for the first time in years, he slept soundly, knowing that they were both safe from any harm.


End file.
